


The Fruits of Victory

by belleslettres



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, One Shot, Post-War, Redeemed Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:24:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belleslettres/pseuds/belleslettres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I could probably forgive Moody for thinking that I am a Death Eater. I could probably even forgive him for the bouts of the Cruciatus Curse, the lash marks across my back, the broken ribs, and the dislocated shoulder. As he’s said, it’s just his job: To <i>interview</i> Death Eaters, to get the information needed to capture those who are still at large. He needs, after all, to bring them to justice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fruits of Victory

**Author's Note:**

> The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. I am simply taking them out to play for a while. I promise to return them (more or less) in one piece when I am done. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.
> 
> This is a dark little one shot, probably written late 2006 or early 2007, but never before published.

I could probably forgive Moody for thinking that I am a Death Eater. I could probably even forgive him for the bouts of the Cruciatus Curse, the lash marks across my back, the broken ribs, and the dislocated shoulder. As he’s said, it’s just his job: To _interview_ Death Eaters, to get the information needed to capture those who are still at large. He needs, after all, to bring them to justice.

Fine. 

But I don’t know anything.

I’ve told him that a hundred times. But he doesn’t care. He just points his wand at me, utters another curse, and asks again. 

And again.

And again.

I don’t know where my father is, or my mother, or my Aunt Bellatrix. I don’t know where Crabbe or Goyle or Pansy are. And if I did know, I would have told him already. I no longer have any loyalty to them. That died the day I, for the briefest moment, saw the whole world in Dumbledore’s eyes. And could not utter the killing curse. 

Too late I heard the words he had been telling me. Too late I saw that the path my family had chosen for me was not the only one I might take. Too late I realize that the friends my family had chosen for me were not the only friends I might have.

Or maybe not too late. Because the one person I was born to hate was the first one to speak kindly to me. I could have loved her before; I do love her now.

“Oh, you know.” Moody’s voice is soft and mocking. “And you _will_ tell me. _Crucio_!”

The ground hits me in the face before I realize I have fallen.

* * *

* * *

The floor is hard under my cheek. 

Am I dying or dreaming? I can hear her voice.

“Alastor! What have you done to him?”

“Nothing that matters.”

Her fingers are gentle on my shoulder. “Draco? Can you hear me? Look at me!” There is an edge of panic in her voice. 

I force my eyes to open. She is real.

“Now, Miss Granger, I’m going to have to ask you to step back—”

She stands, defiant. “Alastor, this is not right and you know it! He doesn’t know anything. Draco is one of us, and you know it well!”

“Ah, yes, of course. You claim are an _associate_ of Malfoy?” Moody leans upon the cane he now carries everywhere with him. Until now I have never seen him use it to support himself. 

“Malfoy is my friend. And you know it.”

“Indeed, I do.” I should have taken comfort in her words, but I cannot for _his_ words turn my bones to ice. The law is new: Known associates of Death Eaters are presumed to be sympathizers of Death Eaters and, as such, subject to arrest and questioning. With her bold statement, she can now be questioned in the same manner as anyone who is bearing the Mark. 

“Well, since you’re here, Miss Granger, I do have a few questions.”

He wouldn’t hurt her. Would he? Not Hermione. She is an Order member. Of course, so am I. But she is the brains of the so-called Golden Trio. The one who suffered, starved, and was very nearly tortured to death during Potter’s quest to bring down the Dark Lord. She is the best friend to the Boy Who Lived, the Boy Who Lived Again, the Hero of the whole fucking Wizarding World, Harry bloody Potter. 

Well, just in the interest of _justice_ , of course.

“Now, where is Lucius Malfoy?”

“I don’t know Alastor. _Draco_ doesn’t know. Now—” 

“ _Crucio_!”

Had it been directed at me, the curse would have chased fire veins and ice through my bones. Needles would have stabbed me over my whole body. My skin would have burned raw and every muscle and ligament in my body would have pulled tight. I would have screamed in agony. 

And it would have been nothing compared to what I feel when he turns the curse on her. She screams and I my heart shatters, the shards piercing my soul.

Moody fixes both his eyes on me. “Where is Lucius Malfoy?”

I don’t know. 

Hermione screams. 

“Narscissa Black Malfoy?” 

Another scream pierces my soul, her pain wrapping around mine. It is more than I can bear. I don’t know! _I don’t know_! Please, stop! I would tell you if I knew! 

“Bellatrix Black Lestrange?”

Hermione’s screams echo around the room, the next beginning before the last has ended. 

“Vincent Crabbe?”

They have to be somewhere. What would he believe? I can’t think. All I can hear are her screams running through my head. 

“Gregory Goyle?” 

The Manor? The ruins of the Lestrange Estate? Denmark? 

“Pansy Parkinson?”

The Black Estate in Cornwall. The lie dies on my lips. Veritaserum. I cannot tell him a lie; I do not know the truth. 

And he knows it.

His face twists into a smile that would have caused the Dark Lord’s own blood to chill.

“You don’t know? Maybe we can jog your memory a bit. Tell me, you little piece of shit, _where is your father_?”

I’m sorry.

“Your mother?”

He’s enjoying it. He’s hurting her for his own sake. Because if I was _really,_ a Death Eater, she’s be just another Mudblood. And I wouldn’t care.

But she is my _friend_. She said so. I would die for her. And now I am very much afraid that I will not even be allowed to die _with_ her.

“Where is Aunt Bella?”

He touches her with the curse again. She twitches and whimpers. 

No! Hermione, please get up!

She is my Hermione. She is _Harry’s_ Hermione. You can’t do this! 

But he can. Potter has done his part. The Dark Lord is dead. Potter is a junior Auror, kept in a dark room in the basement of the Ministry. He will find out what Moody has done; it was unavoidable, Moody will say, and Potter will shout, and no one will care. 

It was done in the name of _justice_ , after all. 

If there was going to be punishment without crimes, if people were going to be tortured for information they did not possess, if Hermione was going to die, then why the _fuck_ did we spend all this time fighting Voldemort? 

We already had that.

I love you.

Her eyes glaze over. She is one, maybe two, breaths away from death. I want to tell her to fight back, to not give up. But what’s the point? I already have.


End file.
